Babies and Beaches and Wine! Oh, my!

I’m sitting here thinking about babies. A friend of mine just became a grandmother for the first time. I’m not in any particular hurry to become a grandmother. I’m too young for that. Really. And way too cool. Grandmothers bake cookies. I BUY cookies. Grandmothers sing soft songs. I play rock ‘n roll. Loud. Though the upside would be hearing, “but you’re way too young to be a grandmother.” I said that myself the other day to a woman I’d just met. “What do you mean you have a three year-old granddaughter? You CAN’T possibly be old enough to have a grandchild.” Then I got a little closer. Also, it could be the piercings and tattoos threw me off. It’s a little tough to judge someone’s age when they’re covered with tattoos. Once you get close, it’s a little easier. Tattoos don’t age well.

Thinking about babies made me think about my favorite mommy blogger Mimi. I began to dig into her archives to read stories about when her daughter Nora was little and discovered that Mimi’s archives go back to 1999. That’s another decade. She’s been doing this for eight years. Mimi’s was the third blog I read, following this and him. Then came her. And her. And him, who is back, by the way, sort of. If you are interested in some summer reading, dig into Bob’s archives. He is hilarious. This was before the big explosion in local blogs.

HOW does one sustain a blog for eight years? And continue to be good year after year. Both Bob and Julia (Tequila Mockingbird) were MIA for a while. Their archives are really interesting if you have time to dig in and check them out.

On the other side of my life, work’s been slow enough that I’ve been able to schedule a few trips, beach, mountains, beach (again), conference. Nice life if you can get it. For the first beach trip I worked so hard at not getting burned that I came back and my boss said, “I thought you were going to the beach.” It didn’t show. I had to shake out my tennis shoes on my desk to prove I’d gone.

Next trip is to the mountains with the people from Mr. W’s company who are wonderful! His boss is a bit of a wine connoisseur who always steers me to just the right drink. I like sweeter wines, my favorite is this.

Mr. W, Bundle of Joy #1, and I went to the North Carolina Wine Festival. Mr. W was designated driver so Bundle 1 and I got to taste our way around the state. I didn’t think I’d over indulged until I heard Bundle 1 talking to Bundle 2:
B 2: So, did Mom get tipsy?
B 1: Oh, yeah!
Me: What? I did NOT!
B 1: Do you remember what you said?
Me: Indeed I do!
B 1: I don’t think so. Where did you suggest we go to lunch?
Me: I don’t remember that I had any particular suggestion.
B 1: You said, “There’s a Waffle House. Let’s go there.”
B 2: Oh Mom! NOBODY suggests the Waffle House unless they’re drunk.

Pondering....

Do you know what the worst part about being a dyslexic insomniac is?



Staying up all night, wondering whether or not there really is a dog.

We FEAR change!

Here we go. This is up and running.

Let's see how long it takes me before I have to call Roch and say, "Uh, I screwed up. Can you fix it?"

UPDATE: Already had to contact Roch. ALL my posts are up there. As if reading the stuff once wasn't enough...

The corner where we meet.

I grew up in a simpler time. I grew up in a time when people didn't lock their cars, didn't lock their houses, knew the names of their neighbors. I don't know my neighbor's names. I refer to them as, "You know, the OBNOXIOUS family with the orange cat," or "drummer boy's father," or "the God people," (he's a minister). My fault, not their's.

I used to know my neighbors. We were one of the first in the neighborhood 15 years ago and I used to greet each new family with homemade cookies. We would generally start the weekend on Fridays in front of Patti's house after the kids got off the school bus. We gathered, someone bringing a plate of cookies, another a pitcher of iced tea, and someone usually brought a couple of beers. We'd talk about what we were doing for the weekend. Who had a game. Who was golfing. Who was going away and we'd pick up the mail and paper. But then Patti's husband got a transfer. Then Carol's. Then Vanessa's. And we drifted apart. The kids grew up and didn't need playmates within a "Dinner's ready" shout. I got a full-time job and began putting energy into it. It's okay really. I'm fine with it. But sometimes I do miss the old neighborhood.

I found a new neighborhood that I really enjoyed. We got together, much like we used to in front of Patti's house. We talked. About kids. About the neighborhood. About each other. Oh, BOY, did we talk about each other. We helped one another when it was needed. We pulled together as a neighborhood. As friends.

And that's about to change now, too. I hear the new neighborhood is going to be better. I hope so. I think it will. It will be made of the same folks who have met at this same place for a long time. I hope I'll be there too.

But I'll probably need lots of directions!

Well? What WOULD He do?

Greg thinks he has the answer.

Tell me, is it a greater sin to blaspheme on a Sunday? (I'm counting on God to have a sense of humor.)

Awwwwwwwww!

Poor thing!

Is it just me?

This story in the Charlotte Observer has something curious.

"Police shut down several streets in west Charlotte and put an elementary school on lockdown this morning after gunfire broke out near a patrolling police officer.

The officer was not the target of the gunfire, police say.

"He happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time," Charlotte-Mecklenburg police Officer Robert Fey said."

Okay. Wouldn't a police officer in an area where there is gunfire be the RIGHT place at the RIGHT time?

Not OUR representatives! (for a change)

Someone, somewhere is worse than our County Commissioners.

What kind of example does this set for our children? For the love of God, guys, the children! Think of the children!

Man! I am tired!

Maybe I need a little fortification. I should run to the store and get some of this.

Or MAYBE NOT!

A day late and a dollar short.

I'm always the last to find out about things. Sometimes that's on purpose, just because I ignore stuff I don't want to deal with. Sometimes I miss stuff because I'm not paying attention and things just pass me by. Sometimes there's a real reason for it. For example, I watch the Daily Show at 8:00 p.m. the day after it shows because there's no way I'm staying up until 11:00 p.m. to catch it live. So when all the bloggers are talking about who said what to whom, I have no idea what they're talking about until later in the day, at 8:00 p.m., when I say, "Ohhhh. That's what it's about." Eh. You make choices. I choose sleep.

Anyway, I found this a couple of weeks ago. Of course EVERYBODY'S seen "The Landlord" on the left side of the page. But check out "Mama Jams with Jenna Elfman."

I'm a fan of Jenna Elfman from her "Dharma and Greg" days. Several years ago Bundle of Joy #2 was visiting from college along with his at-the-time girlfriend. We were sitting in the den with the TV on when a rerun of "Dharma and Greg" came on. They sat watching intently. Then, all of a sudden, they both burst into laughter. Hysterical laughter that went on and on and on. The show was funny, but not THAT funny. Finally, when they'd both gathered themselves, girlfriend explained: "He (BJ2) described you to me," she said. "You," pointing to Mr. W, "are Greg's father, and you," pointing to me, "are Dharma's mother."

I guess.

Well, SHE stepped in it, didn't she?

In the News & Record today, Sharon Davis talks about the lack of decorum at commencement ceremonies. As I read her letter, I agreed with her. A lack of civility and good manners seem to permeate many functions these days from whooping and hollering at graduations to newly-married couples shoving cake in each other's face.

Then Davis said:

"I don't mean to play the race card, but basically it is the black community who behaves this way, and it's not fair to all the other people who are there to honor their students."

It was there that she lost me. My experience, and keep in mind I attend graduation ceremonies for a living, is that the commotion of which Davis speaks cuts across all lines, racial, ethnic, gender, class, etc.

While I certainly appreciate families wanting to honor and celebrate their grad, it is possible to cheer without being totally disruptive. However, to suggest one group has the market on this kind of behavior is ridiculous. To suggest it is "...basically...the black community who behaves this way..." is not only incorrect, but racist.

Not MY kid!

Okay, Dad. Reality check. Read the story published in today's News and Record. Then, assuming good sense has taken over, hang your head in shame and say, "As if my son wasn't an embarrassment enough, I had to open my big mouth."

Let's look at this, shall we?

Stephen Cobb, he said, learned of the suspension during a meeting in early May and missed the deadline to appeal.

Was it that you weren't notified? Or was your SON notified and didn't tell you?

"That's the first blemish he has on his record, student or civilian. The first ever," Doug Cobb said. "And as they explained to us, the typical sanctions … are a one- or two-semester suspension or probation."

Woo, boy! He started his criminal career with a doozy, didn't he?

"...Doug Cobb acknowledged his son made mistakes..."

Ya THINK?

As for selling marijuana, Doug Cobb said he believes that is not inherently dangerous.
Sales are being made and trades being made constantly on university campuses," Cobb said. "If it was such a danger, would kids like my son trade in it? No."

Okay, buddy. This defies logic.

"They are railroading our son because this has given them a black eye," Doug Cobb said. "Period."

Nope. Your kid screwed up, Mister, and he screwed up big time. Suck it up. Take your lumps. Quit making excuses for him or you will find that his screw ups are going to get bigger and your excuses will become more outrageous.

Look. I've got kids. I've been lucky. So far no one's been arrested or in rehab. Only a couple of speeding tickets have blotted otherwise unblemished records. They are well on their way to becoming upstanding, productive citizens. As I said, I got lucky. And I can't say what I'd do if I were in your place. Maybe the same thing. I would probably try to defend them.

I just hope I wouldn't sound as stupid.